I Don't Like The Drugs But The Drugs Like Me
by LollipopAnarchy
Summary: It started with the oxy...


It started with the oxy.

Then, I began popping ecstasy and snorting cocaine. Cocaine powder got too expensive for me so I moved on to smoking crack. Then, injecting heroin came into the picture.

When you're on drugs, you feel invincible, like you can take on anything. It's only when your life begins spiralling out of control that you realize what a mistake you've made.

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I was walking home from school, one day, and came across a book store. A girl eyed me and approached me.

"Hi, I'm Summer."

"I'm Katie."

We shook hands.

It wasn't before long that I realized she grew pot for a living. She had just gotten out of jail and we had an agreement that I wouldn't rat her out to the police if she let me work for her so I can use the money to pay for my oxy.

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I placed the pill on my tongue and closed my eyes as I swallowed it. I fell backwards into my bed and let the oxy do its magic. The light bulb on my ceiling mesmerized my eyes and I felt like I was about to go blind. It felt like the light was radiating heat on my skin and was roasting it slowly. I vigorously scratched my arms, digging into them with my long fingernails that I had neglected to cut. My arms drew a little blood and I looked at my now bloody fingernails, and laughed. My arms didn't feel in pain. I didn't feel in pain. I didn't feel anything.

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The next day, I was meeting with my dealer at a club and bumped into a boy.

"Hey," he winked at me, "wanna do some blow?"

"I'm sorry, I don't give random guys blow jobs," I retorted.

He smirked, "I meant coke," he pulled out a small bag of white powder.

"Are you a dealer?"

He nodded.

"I already have a dealer. He deals me oxy."

"Only oxy?"

"Yeah why?"

"I deal everything, babe. And I can guarantee you my prices are better than his." He placed the bag of cocaine into my palm, "first high is on the house."

"Are you sure?"

"Take it, you're lucky, I don't normally do this."

But he did. He gave all his customers their first high for free so that once they became dependent on the drug, they would be spilling enormous amounts of cash into his cold, dirty, hands.

I went into the bathroom and poured the coke onto the back of my hand and snorted it.

After doing coke, I came out of the bathroom and made my way to the dance floor. I danced for what felt like hours and never got tired. There were so many people, so many faces. I began breathing heavily and my pulse quickened even though it was already going twice as fast. I dodged people and walked over to the bar. My mouth was extremely dry so I needed something to drink. The man behind the counter had a knowing look on his face and I was afraid he figured out I was underage. I ran out of the club and into the street. Cars honked and a driver shouted at me. Standing there, in the middle of the street, I felt like I was ascending into the sky, like Superman. I stared down the driver who had yelled at me and gave him the middle finger.

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The next day, at Degrassi, Mr Armstrong was teaching us an equation and the numbers on the board looked like they were floating. I asked to go to the washroom.

I knelt down and vomited into the toilet. After I flushed it, I cried. I cried because I remembered my bulimic days. I came to the realization that bulimia was kind of like an addiction. I couldn't stop no matter how much I wanted to. I eventually got better and stopped. But now, I have a new addiction. Was this an addiction? I wasn't too sure. Maybe it was just recreational drug use. I leaned my head back on the stall door and wondered why I didn't think of using drugs back then, since some of them made you lose weight. I could've saved myself a lot of trouble.

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After school, I went to the field and kicked my soccer ball around. Nothing. I didn't feel any adrenaline like I used to. My passion was gone.

I called my coke dealer and asked him to come to my location.

"Hey," he smiled at me.

"Hi."

"So, you wanted some coke?"

"No, I just wanted to talk."

He raised an eyebrow.

I ran up to him and kissed him. Why I did that, I don't remember. I guess I was feeling lonely. He _was_kind of cute. Kind of.

He pushed me down on the grass and we began making out.

"Wait," he said. He took out two pills.

"Is that oxy?"

"No, it's E."

He put the two ecstasy pills on his tongue and moved it closer to my mouth. Then, I realized what he wanted me to do. I swiped one pill from his tongue using my own tongue and we continued kissing.

He took off my clothes and then his own clothes and we had sex on the field.

His body felt cold and I stared into his eyes the whole time. They were a wonderful green color with little tints of blue. I could see little red veins in the whites of his eyes, as well. At the time, everything was beautiful. All my senses were heightened and I felt incredible but for some reason, I felt like he was enjoying it more than I was. Maybe because I was losing my virginity- while on drugs- to a person I barely knew.

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During dinner, Mom, Dad, Maya, and I ate silently, until my little sister opened up her big mouth.

"So Katie's counsellor called and said she didn't show up today."

"What?" said Mom, "Katie, is that true?"

I glared at Maya and then looked at Mom, "Yes."

"Well where were you?"

"I was playing soccer on the field."

"By yourself?" Said Maya.

"Shut up Maya," I said, "look, I'm sorry that I didn't go but I just don't see the fucking point of counselling."

"Katie, watch your language," said Mom.

"The point is to make sure you don't relapse on oxycodone," Dad chimed in.

"I'm not going to relapse! So why don't you all just get off my case!" I stormed out of the dining room and found solitude in my bedroom. I didn't mind lying to my family. They didn't understand me. They didn't understand that I _needed _drugs to be happy.

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A month passed by and nobody had figured out what I was doing. They had their suspicions but chose to deny them. I met up with my dealer in an alley downtown. The place was notorious for drug addiction, human trafficking, the works. We sat near a dumpster and I asked him for a bag of coke.

"60 bucks."

"What? I don't have that much right now. Summer isn't giving me my pay until next week and even then, she's only giving me like 30 dollars."

He rolled his eyes, "I can give you crack if you want. It's cheaper."

"Sure, yeah, I'll take anything."

"I'll give it to you for twenty on one condition."

"Okay what?"

"You share it with me. We can smoke out of my pipe."

"I thought dealers never get high on their own supply," I joked.

"Fuck that shit, I need to get high."

He put the crack in his pipe, placed the pipe in my mouth, and lit it. I exhaled and smiled at the smoke floating in the air.

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One night, I snuck out of my parent's house to sleep at my dealer's apartment and woke up to see him doing heroin.

"Can I try that?" I asked, curious.

"Sure, but I don't have another needle. I'm kind of new at this whole heroin thing. You're gonna have to use this one."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

He smirked, "we've had sex- without a condom- lots of times, Katiekins, we've exchanged our bodily fluids already, so if somehow using these needle causes you some sort of disease then you had it coming already."

"That sounds disgusting."

He laughed maniacally "fuck it, here," he handed the syringe to me.

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I sat on the floor of my bedroom and closed my eyes as my right hand injected heroin into the vein in my left arm. This was probably my twentieth, maybe thirtieth, time doing this. Relief washed over me. I needed this. I really needed this. Abruptly, my door opened.

"What are you doing?" Maya shouted.

She grabbed the syringe and threw it away from me. Maya placed her hand over her mouth and sat down on my bed. I closed my eyes again and listened to her sob.

I opened my eyes and met my little sister's eyes, which were filled with tears.

"Katie, why would you do this?"

I turned away from her and stared at the syringe. I blinked once. Blinked twice.

Maya ran to me and placed my face in her hands, "listen to me, I love you and I don't want to lose you. I promise I won't tell mom and dad if you just stop it. _Stop this_."

I took her hands off my cheeks, "My head hurts," I lied down on my bed and put the covers over my body.

Maya ran out of my room then ran back inside.

"Katie, look at this!" She demanded. It was a photograph of me when I was a little girl, holding my baby sister in my arms, "remember this? I think I was just a few weeks old. I don't want to loose this. I don't want to lose my big sister. "

I sighed, "You're not gonna lose me."

Maya placed the photo on my bedside table, "You know what, I can't even talk to you right now. I'll wait until you're sober," she walked out of my room and slammed the door.

I got up from my bed and took a closer look at the picture of Maya and I. I folded it up and put it in my pocket. Also on my bedside table was a picture frame containing a photograph of me when I was about eight or nine. I was in my soccer uniform, smiling brightly. I missed her. I ran my fingers across the frame. I missed what I used to be.

Impulsively, I threw the picture frame against the wall and the glass shattered and dripped down my walls like raindrops.

I walked over and saw my reflection in one of the glass shards. I looked worn out and tired. I had scars and bruises. Instead of having a bright smile like in the photograph, my face was an emotionless mask.

Drugs were supposed to be my escape but ironically they became more like a trap. When you're a drug addict, drugs are the only thing that you care about. Nothing else matters except for getting that next fix. My family didn't matter anymore. My friends didn't matter anymore. I didn't matter anymore. I had lost everything. I had lost myself.


End file.
